Papa's Gone A'Hunting
by Kresnik
Summary: Sometimes doin' the right thing aint doin' the right thing'
1. Chapter 1

Papa's Gone a Huntin'

Sam pulled the cell phone well away from his ear in pain. Dean shook his head from where he stood, leaning against the door frame.

"I told you so."

Sam stared at him sourly. Because he _had_ told him so. The voice on the other end of the phone continued to yell at him with great imagination.

"Now! Put Dean on!"

Even Dean heard that. Sam threw the phone over to his brother like it was a hot potato. Dean caught it, and with some trepidation brought it up to his ear.

"Your Dad's got you babysitting?" Evie asked as if she hadn't just been yelling loud enough to wake most of the county.

"Yeah, he rang yesterday and called us over."

"What did he tell you?"

"He wasn't here when we arrived." Dean couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Just found a note from him saying he was out with the kids' father hunting the thing that killed their mother, and we were to watch them 'til they got back."

"But of course Sam wants to completely ignore that and go find John."

"You know Sam."

"And he thought it'd be a good idea to ask _me_ to babysit instead. You can't just find some nice local woman?"

Dean looked over at the little girl playing quietly with her baby brother. Her pigtails were still neatly in place, and she hadn't messed up her dress yet – that was weird enough.

"Well these kids are slightly different. They come with cages."

There was a startled pause before Evie answered.

"What exactly killed their mother?"

"Werewolf," Dean told her. The little girl looked over at him, her blue eyes gave nothing away. P_oor kid_, he thought, _still, at least they know_.

"You haven't taken them out of the cages, have you?" Dean didn't answer. "Dean? Have you?"

"Relax, the cages were for their protection. We're here now."

"You do know it's a full moon tonight?"

"Well, I imagine that's why Dad and his friend are hunting it tonight," he answered acidly.

"I'm just saying, you'd better be sure about those kids."

"Well," Dean began, sensing an opportunity. "You could always come and check out their auras for us."

"I'm by the Mississippi, genius, even if I wanted to, I couldn't get up there in time."

"You could try." If Dean was going to be stuck in a cabin for the next three days he could do with all the amusement he could get. "Come on, two cute kids, a couple of cages, one handsome man. And a geek," he added as an after thought. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, I'll see your kids and raise you an alligator god."

"Oh man! You get all the fun." There was no way they'd tempt her up if that's what she was dealing with. "Okay, enjoy the water."

"Did you not hear me? ALLIGATOR GOD! The only water _I'm_ swimming in is chlorinated."

Dean ended the call and threw Sam the phone back.

"I still can't believe you actually asked Evie to babysit."

Sam didn't bother answering him.

Dean looked over at the kids. The girl, a pretty little blue-eyed blonde, was called Alice. She was eight years old and three months, as she had solemnly informed them two minutes into their acquaintance. Her brother Max was just out of diapers, Alice had told them he was two and three quarters three minutes into their acquaintance. He was a chubby, rosy cheeked boy, and like his sister, he was way too quiet.

But then, they had recently lost their mother. He could relate to that.

"You guys hungry?" He asked.

They nodded. Dean walked over to the kitchen end of the small cabin and looked for something edible. They'd only arrived an hour ago to find the note from their father telling them what to do, telling them the kids were in the basement, and not to let them out. Sam had obeyed _that _instruction for about thirty seconds.

Sam made for the door.

"Where're you going?" Dean asked immediately.

"It's sundown in another hour, if there's a werewolf on the prowl we might need more than food for the night."

Dean watched him go, he sounded resigned, and Dean didn't like that, for all that he hated it when Sam defied their father, he hated it more when the fire left him. His gaze dropped to the two pairs of eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"Food. Let's see what I can find."

There was no way the family lived there. Not because it was so small, he and Sam more or less lived in a car for God's sake, but because the food was not what you'd find in a regular kitchen. It was more as if someone had raided a gas station. He looked at the array of chips and cookies he'd collected in front of him.

"Everything growing children need," he muttered to himself.

Sam reappeared with the hold-all and let it fall to the ground with a reassuringly heavy thump. Dean took a packet of chips, a can of soda, and a few cookies over to the children.

"Here, it'll probably keep you awake all night, but this is all I could find." He looked closer at Alice. "You okay with your brother while I look after mine?"

She took the packets from him one by one and put them on the floor between them.

"Yes."

Dean joined Sam by the bag of weapons.

"Not exactly chatty any more, are they?" He said as he opened up the case holding the silver bullets. "I'm gonna have to make more of those soon."

Sam looked up briefly at the children.

"That really all there was to eat?"

"Guess the dad was in a hurry." He pulled out a bunch of mistletoe. "You gotta be kidding me."

"I know, it doesn't always work," Sam conceded. "But we've got kids here, anything's worth a shot. It's not going to hurt to try."

"Yeah, we can shoot it while it's laughing at us."

Sam took the bunch and started placing sprigs at every window. Dean carried on checking the guns, placing each one on the scrubbed table when he was happy. He took out the spray gun filled with a mix of water and silver nitrate, gave it a shake, and put it up along side the rest. Finally he tipped the bag, rolling around in the bottom were four grenades. Dean smiled approvingly.

Sam left the cabin and started closing the shutters. Winter was early, but still it was unusually mild for New York State at that time of year. He was glad to get out of the cabin, even if for just a little time. It was burning him up that he knew his dad was somewhere out there, among the trees, and that he couldn't go find him. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say – although he guessed that if, when he saw him again, they probably wouldn't get said anyway.

So instead he was playing babysitter. What did he know about children? Even Dean was better than he was at dealing with kids. Although, he thought, that probably said more about Dean than him. How many grown men still watched Godzilla movies?

_And he calls_ me _the geek._

Reluctantly he returned inside. Dean had gone through the cabinets again and found a bottle of bourbon. Sam picked it up from the table.

"You sure drinking's a good idea?"

"I'm not going to _drink_ it," Dean replied, disgusted. "I _am_ a professional!"

He tore a strip of cloth from one of the faded gingham curtains and pushed it in to the neck.

"Last resort," he told Sam with a grin. "Be a shame to waste it."

Sam lit the one oil lamp and placed it among the weapons. Dean looked over at the children, quietly working their way through their junk supper. Alice primly brushed a crumb from her pretty pink dress.

"They don't strike you as weird?"

Sam looked over at them, if their dad had given them a supper like that at their ages – and truth be told, he had on more than one occasion – there would have been as much food over Dean and him as inside them.

"A little. They've been through a rough time though."

Dean nodded slightly. "Maybe." He looked at them a moment longer. "We should get them down into the basement now. Just in case."

Alice meekly took Dean's hand and her brother held onto hers as he led them down. Holding the oil lamp up above his head, he looked about him. It had once been used, the lines of shelving proved that, but now the shelves were empty except for a few broken tools, and a single candle held upright by melted wax.

The two cages (and it was odd, Dean had to admit, that Alice and Max had their own cages - once you got over the fact that they had cages at all) took up most of the floor space. A bed had been made up in each, and both had a bottle of water beside them. The doors were Yale locks, not padlocks – it was all strange. Dean sighed.

"Look, I guess there's no need for me to lock you in. But if you hear anything, I want you to shut the doors behind you. Okay Alice? Can I trust you to look after your brother?"

"Yes," she replied, so quietly he could hardly hear.

Dean got down onto one knee. She was looking a little pale.

"You feeling alright?" She nodded. "Don't worry, everything's going to be fine."

He lit the candle and went back up the stairs.

"Oh," he said, as an after thought. "And I don't want you coming back up until we come and get you. That's an order."

Sam looked up as Dean closed the basement door. The mistletoe he'd hung on the handle swung a little.

"That's an order?"

"What? It worked with us."

"It worked with _you_," Sam replied. "They okay?"

Dean shrugged. "Hard to say. They've grown so quiet."

"It's late, they're probably just tired."

Dean agreed. He walked over to the door, which remained open for as long as the sun was still up.

"I hate waiting," he muttered restlessly.

"We could always go hunt," Sam suggested. "Take the fight to him."

"Our orders are to stay here," Dean replied predictably. "Dad and his friend are hunting it. It might not even be near by."

"Well, they clearly thought the kids were at risk," Sam answered, sitting at the table, with a semi-automatic in front of him, ready to be picked up in an emergency.

The sun went down. Dean closed and bolted the door. Then, to be on the safe side, he rechecked the shutters. Sam waited patiently until he returned to the table and sat down next to him. Together they waited in the pool of golden lamp light.

A few minutes later, Sam cocked his head.

"What's that noise?"

Dean picked up a gun without thinking, as he stood up. He circled the room trying to place where the whining and snuffling was coming from. Slowly he drew closer to the basement door. Sam's chair slid back as he rose. Cautiously Dean opened the door. He looked inside.

"Oh crap!" He slammed the door shut. At that moment the noises became high pitched growls and two large thuds nearly threw him to the floor.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooo


	2. Chapter 2

"Shit!" He swore, bracing himself against the wood. "Quick! Get me something to wedge this closed with!"

He hadn't had to ask, Sam was already snapping a broom handle. He hammered the wedge shaped end in place with the head of the broom as the two baby werewolves continued to throw themselves against the door. Dean pulled the kitchen dresser over, with Sam's help, and pushed it up against the door too. When they were done, they leaned against the furniture, breathing heavily.

"You know, you can get tired of a woman who's always right." Dean said.

The door was secure for the moment. Sam paced the room restlessly.

"Why didn't Dad warn us?"

"He did tell us not to let them out of their cages, Sam. It was you who decided to ignore that."

"Oh right," Sam rounded on him." 'Cause you were all for trying to stop me!"

"I'm just saying, Dad told us to keep them in their cages. We both should have known better."

"What do we do now?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, and sat back down.

"We wait for sun up."

A muffled howl made them both look towards the dresser.

"That's it?"

Dean laughed. "Why? You wanna kill them? There is nothing for us to do, man. The puppies are safely stowed down below, we're up here. We wait til dawn then get some sleep."

Sam watched Dean get comfortable, apparently happy to accept this new turn of events at face value.

"So what? Now we're not expecting an attack from out there?" He asked pointing beyond the timber walls.

Dean breathed a long sigh. "Will you just sit down? It stands to reason that Dad just wanted us to mind the…" he waved his hand vaguely at the door. "Little nippers. Christ, Sam. Chill."

Chill? Sam laughed and shook his head. Suddenly the four walls were very close together. It was a long time before sun up, and he was already fed up with Dean. He paced the floor.

Another muffled howl made them both look towards the door. The couple of chipped cups rocked on their hooks as the little werewolves threw themselves into trying to escape. Dean went over and checked that nothing had moved.

"Just as well they're young," he said. "I vote we don't mention this to dad. It's embarrassing."

"They _are_ young. How'd they even survive getting infected?" Dean looked at him with that look on his face, the one that said 'Do we really have to go there?'. "Come on Dean, children that young? If a werewolf got to them, they should be dead."

Reluctantly Dean considered that. "Yeah, okay, you're right. There are stories of the curse running through families though."

"But that could mean that dad's out there helping his friend hunt down a family member."

Another muffled howl only gave the brothers pause for a moment this time.

Until the howl was answered.

They grabbed their guns. Dean headed for the door, Sam for the shuttered kitchen window.

"Well, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, crap," Dean muttered. "Can you hear anything?"

"Nothing. What about you?"

Dean put his ear to the door which earlier had seemed so solid. For a moment all he could hear was the rushing of his own eardrum. Then he picked out another sound.

"Sssaaaam!"

Sam looked in time to see his brother brace himself against the door. Dean held against the first shove by himself; before the werewolf could try again, Sam was by his side. The door held, but both men rocked against the force.

The werewolf howled again, and its howl was answered by the children behind the basement door. The dresser tinkled again. Dean and Sam looked at each other.

"There's a power drill under the sink, get it."

Sam ran to fetch it. Dean grabbed the two nearest legs of the table and tipped it up, barely hearing the crash of their hardware on the floor. The door bulged, the bolt was being pried free. He flipped the table around and pushed it flat against the door.

"Sam!"

"I'm here," He handed the old drill over, in his hand he had a few long screws which he'd found in an old tobacco tin next to it. "Think it'll even work?"

There was only one way to find out. Dean took the first of the screws and began to force it through the solid table into the wall. It worked, but the battery was low. Another blow to the door and Dean lost his balance. The drill slipped out of the screw.

"Shit!"

Sam drew his gun and positioned himself to be the first thing the werewolf would see if it gained entrance.

"Keep going."

Any other time and Dean would have pointed out the uselessness of telling him that. Right now he was too concerned with willing the sluggish drill to work faster. The first screw was through, He grabbed another and began the painfully slow process again on the other side of the door, while Sam stood over him protectively.

"Are there any nails in that box?" Dean asked as he pressed into the table.

"Yeah."

"Good, hold on." He dropped the drill and ran back to the kitchen, returning with a hammer.

"You're going to drive a nail through all that?" Sam demanded.

"The drill's taking too long. I don't have a choice."

Urgency lent him strength, Dean forced the huge timber nails through quickly, Sam kept well out of his way after nearly being brained by his huge swing. At last he stepped back, allowing the hammer to drop to the floor. There were two screws and four nails now holding the table to the walls on either side of the door.

"Think it'll hold?"

"If it doesn't, I'll hit some more in," Dean replied. "But if it huffs and puffs we might be finished."

The werewolf tried once more against it, then seemed to give up.

Sam passed Dean his gun. Together they stood in the centre of the cabin and listened. Their heads snapped round as one on the shutters rattled. Sam pushed his gun down the back of his trousers and picked up the hammer, wordlessly he began to nail the shutters closed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOooooooopppppppooooooooooooo

Being winter, dawn came late, and being that most of the furniture was now nailed to every possible entrance into the little cabin, it came unseen by the Winchester brothers.

Dean and Sam sat on the last two surviving table chairs, back to back, worn ragged. The werewolf hadn't let up all night, and now they were beyond their usual quips. All either of them wanted was to sleep. They hadn't heard anything of the creature for nearly an hour, but through out the night it had gone away then come back, as if trying to trick them.

"What's that noise?" Sam mumbled.

Dean raised his head and listened . From behind the dresser they could hear knocking. Dean looked at his watch.

"It's nearly eight. Dawn's been and gone."

Together they pushed the dresser away. Cautiously Dean opened the door.

Alice stood at the top of the stairs holding her brother's hand. They were dressed neatly, it looked like Alice had brushed hers and Max's hair. Sam and Dean looked down on them, through bloodshot eyes.

"Let me guess," Dean finally said. "You're hungry."


	3. Chapter 3

Alice and Max tucked into their healthy breakfast of chips and cookies.

"...You do it." Dean whispered back. "Why do I have to do all the kids stuff?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

"Dude, I am not too tired to kick your ass."

Sam seriously doubted that. "Fine, I'll do it."

The table had been pried from the door and set upright again. The two chairs that had been used as barricades were also back where they belonged. Sam joined the two children as they tucked in to their food like - the term 'a pack of wolves' came too readily to mind.

"Hey there." They glanced briefly at him. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

Max looked at his sister in a way that grabbed Sam and dragged him straight back to his childhood. _Let Dean do the talking_ Dad had always said, and he always had. Whenever difficult questions had been asked by well meaning adults it had been Dean who talked their way out.

Alice brushed her fingers and took a sip of water.

"No," she finally answered, looking him straight in the eyes. "Were we bad?"

Behind him he heard Dean snort.

"Not exactly," he answered. 'I think you were just acting in your nature."

Alice pushed her hair behind her ears and looked at him again.

"What does that mean?"

Dean had been right to avoid this one. Sam sighed. He was sure Alice was fielding, he'd heard Dean do it too often, done it himself too. But he could be wrong, and if he was, he wasn't going to be the one to tell these two little kids that they turned into monsters whenever the moon was full. Max suddenly gave an exaggerated yawn. Sam chickened out.

"It doesn't matter."

Alice rubbed her eyes. "Can we go back to bed?"

"Sure," he said, defeated.

Alice brushed Max down then led him back to their cages.

"Nice going Sammy boy, you just let a six year old kid give you the run around."

"Hey, you could have stepped in at any time!" He reminded him. "So what did you think?"

"They're lying," Dean said the moment the door was closed. "I've done that too often not to see it."

"Funny, it reminded me of that too." God he was tired! He rubbed his eyes. "They know exactly what they are, and someone's taught them how to hide it."

Dean looked at his brother a beat.

"Get your head down for a bit."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry, I'll wake you for your turn."

There was no question of them both sleeping. Dean breakfasted on cookies hoping the sugar would help keep him awake. Trying to keep quiet he began cleaning their weapons. Not that they'd had much chance to use them last night. It had all been about keeping the monsters out. And in.

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo

"Dean!"

Dean jerked awake, raising his head from the table. i_Damn_/i He was supposed to be on guard. He looked up at Sam who was standing by the open door. The sun was high.

"Shut the door Sammy. I'm freezing my ass off."

"Someone's coming."

"Is it Dad?" He was already halfway to the door.

"Don't think so."

A station wagon was rocking it's way along the rough woodland track. Sam was right, unless their dad had had a giant change in fortunes, it wasn't him. They looked at each other uneasily. Under the shade they couldn't get any kind of view of the driver, Dean went back to the table and collected two guns. Sam took one from him wordlessly, both kept the weapons behind their backs as the car approached.

"Hey!" A cheerful and unmistakably female voice called. "You must be the boys looking after Steve's kids."

The guns got slipped down the backs of their pants, and shirts self-consciously pulled over.

A woman in her mid thirties got out of the car. Her long blond hair was left loose, she wore a baggy sweater of deep red and jeans. She reached into the back of the car and brought out two brown bags of food.

"I'm Marion," she told them. "Steve asked me to drop by, check you were okay. I'm guessing he hasn't left much by way of food."

And instantly she'd won her way into both men's hearts.

"Not much, no," Sam agreed. "I'm Sam."

He went to shake her hand, but both her arms were full of shopping, she handed him one bag, then shook his hand.

"Dean." Dean also got handed a bag of shopping in exchange for a handshake.

Marion walked between them into the cabin. She looked about her slowly, finally turning to face them.

"Did you boys have a party last night?" She asked with a disapproving frown.

"No ma'am," Sam hurried to assure her, too late he realised that he had no idea what to say. "We had a little problem with a …"

"Bear," Dean supplied. "Bastard didn't let up all night."

"A bear huh?" She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Yeah, they can be like that. Where are the children?"

"Downstairs sleeping," Dean told her. "They didn't get much sleep last night…"

"Because of the bear…" Sam added.

"Yeah, so they decided to get a bit more shut eye."

"Well, you boys get a fire going, fill up the kettle and set it on the stove. Once I've checked on the little ones I'll cook you a proper breakfast."

Dean dumped his bag on the cabinet that was still half pulled out from the wall.

"Well today's just taken a dramatic turn for the better."

"Hey, Dean, you cleaned up down there?"

"Do I look like a maid?" He asked without thinking. Then he understood what he was going on about. "Oh."

They rushed down, Sam almost sending them both flying after Dean stopped suddenly. There was nothing that screamed "werewolf was here", the candle had burned down and left a solidified pool of wax on the shelf, but the shelves were still in place, the beds were neatly made, even the bottles of water were upright. Marion sat on the floor next to Max's mattress, with Alice in her arms. Alice's little arms were wrapped tight around her neck as Marion stroked the sleeping boy's hair.

"I'm very proud of you," she was saying. "You've done everything right. Looked after your brother, just as I told you to."

"So much for breakfast," Dean said. Marion spun around, she wrapped her arms protectively around Alice as she stared at them wild eyed. "What's going on?"

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo

"Nothing," she replied quickly. "Alice knows me from way back. I'm her aunt."

"Their aunt?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't think to mention that before?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

"See," Dean said. "One thing we know about is family. If you were her aunt, you'd have said at the get go."

Marion untangled Alice's arms from her neck and resolutely placed the child behind her. Slowly she left the cage, clearly placing herself between them and the children.

"Fine," she said through her teeth. "I'm their mother."

"Their mother's dead," Sam replied.

Marion's face drained of colour. "Who told you that?"

"Our dad. I assume their dad told him."

She held the bars of the cage for support.

"He said I was dead?" She whispered, more to herself than them. "I'm _dead_ to him?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm beginning to miss the simple babysitting job. Lady, we didn't get this far by ignoring our dad…" Sam coughed, Dean ignored him. "You say you're their mother? Prove it."

"You mean apart from the fact that my daughter is holding my hand like she'll never let go?"

Sure enough, Alice had sidled up behind Marion and was holding her fingers through the cage.

"Yeah," Dean said aggressively. "Apart from that."

"Fine!" She answered, matching him in anger.

She pulled her wallet from her pocket and tossed it to him. Dean opened it to find a portrait photo of Marion with Alice and Max. Her driving licence introduced her as Rebecca Holloway.

"Your real name's Rebecca?"

"Well, I'd assumed you'd be on the look out for me, so I had to give you the wrong name."

"So why has their father got our dad hunting a werewolf out in the forest?" Sam asked.

Rebecca stared at them, shocked. Then laughed hysterically. "It's me, he's hunting me!"

"_You're_ the werewolf?" Sam demanded with a sinking feeling.

She didn't seem to hear him. "The _bastard_ it's bad enough he should take the kids from me, now he wants me dead?" She looked up at them. "And what then? When I'm dead, he's going to kill his children too?" Neither of the men answered her. "Now you see why I have to take them away from him? It's not their fault they're like this. Please, I have to take them away."

"You're not going anywhere," Dean said. "You can't go telling us you're a werewolf…you're _the_ werewolf that spent all night trying to kill us…"

"I wasn't trying to kill you, I was trying to get my children!"

"Oh right, 'cause you're just a big furry softie during the full moon."

Rebecca bit her lip. "Fine, I probably would have killed you. What do you expect? You were standing between me and them. I only have so much control during those times you know."

"Hang on," Sam said. "Are you saying you still have some control when you're changed?"

"How do you think I managed all those years living in Fort Worth? With Steve away in Lord knows what God-forsaken part of the world the army saw fit to send him. I _had_ to have control. I might have killed someone otherwise."

Dean rubbed his brow, he needed more sleep. "So now you're telling us you've never killed?"

She hesitated. "I might have - the first time. I didn't know it was going to happen so…But after that I chained myself up in the basement every month. Of course I did, what else would I have done?"

"What about Alice and Max?" Sam asked.

Rebecca stroked Alice's hair, who had wormed her way back to her mother's side. "Alice was an accident, we were in a shop when a car missed the turn and came through the window. We both got cut pretty badly, I didn't even think about it, I cradled her and some of my blood got into her wounds. As for Max, I should have had an abortion I know. I just couldn't bear to."

Sam had sat down on the steps. "So where does your husband come into all this?"

"He didn't know. I couldn't tell him, I didn't know how, and while he was away more often than he was here I could hide it from him. Then he got injured in Iraq and they sent him home for good."

"And you couldn't explain the shackles in the basement," Dean finished.

"Something like that. He lost it."

"He just found out his wife and kids turn into rabid monsters every full moon," Dean pointed out.

"I am _not_ a rabid monster! He's the one who wants to kill us, so who's the monster? And if you don't let us go then you'll be as guilty as him."

"You're a werewolf, I can't let you go."

"Ah, Dean…"

"Not now Sam."

Rebecca's stance changed slightly, she drew herself up and fixed him with bright eyes.

"So what are you going to do? Kill me in front of my children?" She asked. There was no reply. "I didn't think so. Well, you better make up your minds, because I may not be able to get past you now, but I assure you tonight that dresser will not keep me trapped like it did the kids. And then you'd better make sure you aim true, because I _will_ be leaving with my children."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean pointed at her, she flinched and he realised he'd drawn his gun.

"Stay there."

With a nod to Sam, they left the basement, ignoring the deep scratches on the inside of the door. Sam waited until Dean had shut it before swearing copiously. Dean looked at him in surprise, that was usually his part.

"This is messy in all kinds of ways," he concluded.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"What are we going to do, Dean?" Sam demanded. "She's right, when the sun goes down she's leaving with the children, there's nothing we can do about it."

"So what? We just let her go? Dad's out there hunting her, and we're under orders to keep those kids safe, here. How do we explain that she came here and we just let her mosey off with his friend's children?"

"Dad doesn't know what we know."

"That's just it Sam!" Dean exploded. "We don't know anything! All we have is her word! A werewolf's word! Come on Sam, who ever heard of a werewolf that didn't kill?"

Sam paced the room. "So, you think she's lying?"

"I don't know, but I know we need a damn sight more proof than her word!"

"Okay," Sam nodded, finally stopping his pacing. "Okay, then that's what we do. We get proof."

"How Sam?" Dean asked, tired. If only this was something he could just point a gun at and have done. "You think we can drive down to Fort Worth and back before sundown? Even I can't make that drive."

Sam waved her wallet at his brother. "We don't have to. The address on the driving licence is close by. I guess they lived in Fort Worth at the beginning. We could go check out the house, if she locked them all up in the basement, there should be signs of that. You saw what the kids did to that door."

Dean nodded finally. "Fine, but you go. Alone. One of us has to stay here to keep an eye on the Munsters."

"Then you go, I'll stay."

Dean looked at him in surprise. "How d'you figure?"

"Dean, I love you man, but when it comes down to it, you can't disobey dad…"

"And when it comes down to it, you won't be able to pull the trigger," Dean shot back. "You couldn't, could you? So let's err on the side of caution. She may be all civilised right now, but let's not forget her real face. You take the house, I'll guard _them_."

Brighton was ten miles away, nothing compared to the distances they were used to traveling, but it always felt longer on his own. The cabin was deep in the woods, in the bottom of a valley, the Impala worked its way up the gradient to the town with it's usual grumble.

Rebecca had given him detailed directions to the Holloway residence. The small town got on with it's daily routine as he drove along the back streets unsure of what he wanted to find at the end of his drive. The idea that werewolves might not be evil per se made Dean and his lives suddenly more complicated. Now they not only would have to identify the thing in question, but whether it deserved to die or not. With a smile that was more of a grimace he realised that that would really throw Dean a loop. Dean didn't like complications.

The house had been built in the fifties – the golden age – when even low paid workers had it good. Along the street other houses looked as if they hadn't seen a lick of paint since then, but the Holloways were house proud it seemed. Sam parked the car and locked it, then fished out the other set of keys he'd taken from Rebecca's purse.

The locks had been changed. "Perfect!" Sam muttered. He looked around, this may be a rundown neighbourhood, but it _was_ a neighbourhood and people noticed breaking and entry. He walked round into the yard, where trees hid the perimeter from prying eyes. All the windows had bars, and the backdoor had recently been changed, the old mostly glass one still leant against the side of the house, mute testament to Steve Holloway's intent at keeping his wife out.

It wasn't a cheap lock either and it took Sam longer than usual to beat it.

He closed the door behind him. The house was pristine, exhibition house quality. All the curtains had been drawn, so Sam wandered through in partial shade. Upstairs there were signs of a hasty get out, clothes on the bed, toys left abandoned. He found it slightly disturbing. The Holloways could have had the life he'd always dreamed of, except for the little matter of the mother being a werewolf.

Under the stairs was the door to the basement, just like Rebecca had said. There was nothing special about it. It opened easily, he switched on the light and headed down towards another door. A steel door.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo

"So, how did it happen?"

Dean had brought Rebecca's shopping down to her, and now sat on the top step watching as she made breakfast for her and her children. He sipped at scalding coffee.

"My father was ill - his last illness as it turned out, so I left Alice with Steve's mother and came home to be with him. It's the house Sam's gone to now. Well, Dad died. I went out for a walk to try and get a handle on things and ended up getting attacked."

Dean shook his head. "It's not everyone can survive a werewolf. How did you manage it?"

"I know the woods pretty well. There's this place not far from here where the woods just drop away in a seventy foot cliff. I made it to there before it reached me. I think it was playing with me, cause I was pretty messed up, I was trying to hold most of my insides in with my jacket. It could have taken me any time."

"You lured it over the cliff?"

"No, I climbed part the way down the cliff and waited for dawn. Werewolves aren't much use when it comes to stone."

He took another sip of his coffee. "And you had no idea what would happen to you the next night?"

"Oh yeah," she answered, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Because I was ready to believe I'd been attacked by a _werewolf_."

"Well, what did you think it was?"

"I convinced myself it had been a mangy bear," she said with a sigh. "Even when I healed up so quickly. You hungry?"

He was, starving. "No, I'm good." Like he was going to eat anything _she_ touched before Sam gave him the all clear."

ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sam had wedged the heavy door with a chair. It was on a time lock, and the current setting was just after dawn.

The basement had been turned into a bunker of solid concrete. It was completely empty but marks on the floor showed the outline of the two cages that were now underneath Dean in the cabin. Sam rubbed the scuff marks with his shoe. Rebecca seemed unsure that the children would be safe around her. It might have been empty, but huge scratches left mute testament to the beast that was housed there three nights a month. Sam ran his fingers over the deep gouges, and wondered that they had survived the night before with only wooden doors to protect them.

He left, letting the heavy door swing closed behind him. Once above ground he pulled out his Cell.

"Hey!" he said the moment Dean answered. "Looks like she's telling the truth. She's basically built a time lock safe underneath the house for them."

- And she's used it?

"By the look of all the scratches on the walls, absolutely."

- Shit.

That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting.

- So what do we do now?

By the sound of it, Dean had closed a door, and was now outside.

"Well, we can't keep them , or kill them. Not if they're not harming anyone."

He could imagine Dean leaning against the wall of the cabin, and rubbing his head in confusion.

- I know. Dad's gonna kill us.

"We have to do the right thing. I tell you what. I'll stop by the library, check there hasn't been a rash of people going missing, or animal attacks. Just to be on the safe side."

- Good idea.

Sam closed the phone with a sigh. So now he was actually looking for reasons why Dean shouldn't disobey dad? He locked up after himself and drove to the library, it was built as if the architect had seen the White House and wished he'd had the contract.

A man cut across Sam's path in his hurry to get to the library Just before he bounded up the steps he threw his paper in the trash can. Sam's eye was caught by the headline. With a sinking feeling he pulled it back out and sat on the cold steps to read.

'Local man goes missing while walking dog.'

Being a local rag it gave all the details the nationals would usually leave out, such as he'd taken the dog (imaginatively called Rex) for a walk before supper, at around six, and that he usually went walking down the valley, in the woods. The alarm had been raised when Rex had reappeared without his master, shaking uncontrollably, and sporting bloody lead.

"Shit!" Sam muttered. He read on.

'This recent loss, coupled with the recent sightings of a strange animal hiding in the woods, can only bring back memories of the tragedies of five years go which culminated in the loss of Brighton's beloved priest Father Jonson.'

With a heavy sigh, Sam opened up his phone again.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all your comments! oooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo 

"Look." John pointed to the ground. It was the first time either of them had spoken in several hours.

They'd been following the werewolf's tracks all morning, having finally picked them up the night before. The tracks were old, but unmistakable. A child could have followed them, and not just his own. A werewolf had claws like a wolf, but the height and weight of the biped required most of the foot to remain more or less human in scale and shape.

The werewolf had run pretty steadily, detouring only once to hunt a bear - not much had been left by the time he and Steve had found it. These latest tracks were different though. The smooth running was over, as if the creature was stumbling in pain. John could only hope. They led to what had been a thicket but was now thrashed into a clearing. Fur had caught in the brambles in a wide circle.

"This must be where it change back into a man," he said. hoping that Steve would answer. He got a grunt for his pains.

John was hardly the most talkative of men, but he remembered clearly how he'd been after Mary died, a widower, the only carer of two boys, one not even out of diapers yet, and facing a brand new world of things that went bump in the night. He'd talked. He'd had to talk. Hearing his own voice saying what he'd seen had helped keep it real, stopped him from convincing himself he'd hallucinated or some such idiocy that others had suggested. Talking had taken him to Missouri, talking had been what made Steve know to contact his old CO when this had happened to him.

But Steve wasn't talking. He didn't seem stunned, or interested that this other world had existed, even that it had reared its ugly head to snatch his own wife from him. Still, John reminded himself, there were as many reactions to grief as there were people.

Steve had moved over the circle of the werewolf's throws to the other side.

"Here," he said.

John let the branch he'd been examining spring back. They had followed the werewolf's tracks in, but bare foot prints led out. John frowned and bent to look closer.

"These are too small to be a man. This werewolf's a woman!"

Steve shrugged. "Aren't most of the tales about women? Witches that hunt at night?"

"Alot, I wouldn't say most," John answered. "You don't seem surprised."

Steve took a moment to answer. Finally he looked into John's eyes, hatred and anger burning in his own. "I really don't care about its sex."

They followed the small footprints for another half an hour until they found a small clearing. Here were more signs, John found some threads and fibres hidden under a bush.

"She had clothes hidden here," he said. He looked about, trying to get his bearings, then with a sinking feeling he pulled out his GPS.

"She's heading for the cabin, isn't she?" Steve asked.

She was. "Steve, why would it do that? What's so special about your children?" Steve stood there silently his gaunt frame and the grey pallor grief always seemed to give a man making him look almost spectral. "Damnit Steve! I can't help you if you don't talk to me!"

"It wants the kids, okay?" He answered suddenly. "For itself."

John took a moment to digest that information.

"You mean to tell me that your children have already been...altered?"

"Like I said, it wants them for itself," he repeated bitterly.

All of a sudden John didn't care.

"You son of a bitch! I sent my boys to look after them! They don't know to protect themselves against your children! I swear to God Steve, if anything's happened..."

"If they can protect themselves against a full grown werewolf, they can protect themselves against two babies!" Steve answered. "Besides, didn't you tell them not to let them out of their cages?"

He had. If Dean was alone there would be nothing to worry about. But he had to factor in Sam.

He pulled out his phone - no signal.

"We know where she's going. So let's get there," he finally said, tersely. He shouldered his pack, and without checking that Steve was following headed as straight as he could for the cabin.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, when Steve came back for good there was no way I could carry on hiding it from him, I tried to tell him, but he thought I was insane, tried to get me committed."

"Couldn't you show him?" Dean asked, on his third coffee.

"Not without putting his life at risk. But it ended up that way. The men actually turned up to take me away. I couldn't allow that, it was close to the full moon, I couldn't risk being in hospital then, so I ran. I left Alice and Max and ran."

"Then the next full moon, he got to see the children, er..."

"Change," Rebecca supplied. "Yes. I tried to get back in time, but round here they're very good tracking people through the forest. I was kept on the run until the full moon came and I could get some real distance between me and them. I don't know how Steve survived that first night, but clearly he did. By the time I got back home he'd taken off though. It's taken me this whole month to find them again."

"I don't get it, it's not like we're far from your home."

"I'm just a normal person at the moment. Until I change I don't have any special abilities, there was nothing I could do."

Dean's phone rang. "Excuse me." He got up and made to shut the door behind him.

"You're still locking me in?" She asked, surprised.

He shrugged, "No offence," then shut the door. "Sam, what have you got?"

"There _have_ been sightings," Sam told him, getting straight down to business. "A strange animal, maybe a sick bear, and a man went missing yesterday evening. So maybe we shouldn't be so sure of her."

"Crap! Well, I don't know Sam, she seems pretty genuine to me."

Sam frowned. Now they'd both changed their positions.

"Seems isn't good enough Dean," he answered. We need to know for certain."

"Yeah," Dean replied unhappily. "Anything else I should know?"

"Well, there was a spate of attacks about five years ago, the local catholic priest was killed."

"Five years ago huh? Look, it's getting late. You'd better get back here."

"I'm on my way."

'Why couldn't this be happening in the summer,' Dean thought, 'when we'd have until ten o'clock to come up with an answer. No, it couldn't be that easy could it? Instead we have about six hours to figure out this mess all told.'

He checked his watch, it was four o'clock. In about an hour and a half Rebecca was coming up those stairs with her pups, and there would be nothing they could do to stop her. Or possibly even stay alive.

He grabbed a handful of cookies, and went back to his perch on top of the stairs.

"It can't be easy," he said. "Those three nights locked up in a basement. You must long to be out here in the woods."

She reacted to his tone.

"No, it's not easy. What's happened?"

"A man's gone missing from Brighton," he told her. "Last night when he was walking the dog. What happened? Did you get the munchies?"

She paled. "No, that's not possible. You know it isn't. Come on Dean, you know exactly where I was all night. I was here!"

"Not all night you weren't."

She seemed agitated. Began pacing the floor. The children, who had slept all day, now began to rouse themselves. Max got tetchy and Rebecca went to change him.

"I don't think..." she tried to keep her voice calm for the children. "I killed a bear two nights ago, I remember that. But all I can remember of last night is trying to get to the children. There was something stopping me..."

"That would be us," Dean said.

"No, not you. Something else. It was around the windows and door. It felt horrible."

'Son of a bitch!' Dean thought. 'Mistletoe i_does_/iwork.'

He became aware of voices outside the cabin. Thinking Sam had got back and he'd somehow missed the car's growl, he left Rebecca, taking care to lock the door, and went to meet him.

"Sam! Dean!"

Dean stopped in his tracks, not quite believing his ears.

"Dad?"

John came through the door and broke into a huge grin on seeing his eldest, which faded almost instantly.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean walked over to him and they hugged.

"He's on his way back. Dad, I'm glad you're here..."

"He left you alone?"

"There were some things we had to get checked out. This..."

"Where are my children?"

Dean stopped and faced the man. He gave him a long appraising look that reminded John how long ago his son had stopped being a boy.

"So, you're Steve. Dad, did you know his children are infected?"

"Not until a couple of hours ago I didn't. I'm sorry Dean. If I'd have known..."

"Where are they?" Steve demanded.

"They're locked in the basement. That was a fun little surprise by the way. Leaving us to be attacked inside and out."

Steve made to go down, but Dean put himself in between him and the door.

"An apology would be nice." He said, up close.

"How did you stop it getting in?"

"Sam brought mistletoe."

"That _works_?"

"Go figure."

"Look," Steve said, trying to stay patient. "I realise that you're upset, and I am sorry. But I just want to check my kids are alright before the sun goes down."

"They're fine," Dean said in a very unfriendly way. "Rebecca's with them."

Steve suddenly lunged for the door, he may have been a marine once, but he hadn't been personally trained by John Winchester. Dean caught him and threw him back.

"Oh no you don't, we're going to have a little talk before I let you down there."

John didn't like being left out of the loop.

"Who's Rebecca?"

"Rebecca is the monster that killed my wife!"

Instantly John's gun was in his hand and he was half way to the door. There was only one thing Dean could do to protect Rebecca now.

"DAD NO!"

John glanced at his son, then had to look again, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Dean had pulled his gun on his own father.

"Dean, have you lost your mind?"

"This is _not_ what it seems, dad."

"That woman killed his wife! Killed those kids' mother! You of all..."

"She _is_ those kids' mother!"

John faltered. His gun sank towards the floor. "What?"

"Dad, the werewolf didn't kill the mother, iti _is _/ithe mother. And we have good reason to believe she's not a danger to anyone."

"Not a danger?" Steve repeated. "LOOK WHAT SHE'S DONE TO MY CHILDREN!"

'She didn't mean to," Dean countered. He wished Sam was back. "It was an accident."

"The fuck it was," Steve said furiously. "That is i_not_/i my wife!"

"Dean," John said. "Mother or not, she's a werewolf."

"Exactly!" Steve added.

"And what about your children?" Dean demanded of him. "What about Alice and Max? You gonna kill them too? 'Cause they're werewolves too."

"Maybe..." John began. "Maybe if he catches them this young something can be done."

Steve made another move towards the basement door, Dean aimed his gun at him and he stopped.

"Dean, I know this is a bad situation," John said. "But you know what has to happen. Step aside. That's an order."

Dean kept an eye on both men, but his hand faltered.

"Dean!" His dad barked out.

Dean looked at his father. "No."

Suddenly both men moved towards him. Instinctively Dean kept his weapon trained on Steve and he stopped. Then just as suddenly John wasn't there any more.

"Sam let me go!"

It hadn't taken Sam a moment to realise what the stand off was about, and with everyone's attention on each other he'd been able to slip in unseen. He would have reacted even quicker had he not been as surprised as John to hear Dean say 'no'. Now Sam had his father pinned up against the wall, and Dean had Steve effectively immobilised.

"Dad," he said calmly. "It isn't that simple. and we are going to have to figure this out real quick because the sun's against us."

John looked first at Sam, then at Dean and the anger drained from him. If Dean was prepared to disobey him then he had to be pretty sure he was right.

"Talk fast then."

Between them Dean and Sam fleshed out everything they had discovered.

"You see!" Steve said when they were done. "She is killing! She has started killing!"

"It's alright Sam, you can let go of me," John said quietly.

Sam released him almost reluctantly, and John straightened his top. He put one hand to his son's face in a caring gesture.

'It's good work. I'm proud of you." He looked over at Dean, standing on guard and alone, the only thing between the humans and the monsters, and able to protect the monsters despite everything he'd been through in his life. "I'm proud of you both."

Sam's eyes were moist. If only he'd been able to thicken that skin of his, like Dean had. Then John realised that he was doing both his sons an injustice. Dean's skin wasn't nearly as thick as he pretended.

"She's started killing now," Steve reminded them. "We can't let her live."

"Maybe," John answered, aware that the shadows were coming fast to the inside of the cabin. "Or maybe it's not her at all."

"You mean the man just happened to go missing?" Dean asked. "What about all the sightings?"

"I mean, maybe it's not the same werewolf."

"Oh come on!" Steve exploded. "Two werewolves? I know I'm new to all this, but there can't be that many about!"

"He's got a point, Dad."

Even now, when he was finally agreeing with his son, Sam couldn't help but play Devil's Advocate. John looked at his younget in frustration.

"Think about it, if you were a werewolf, how would you move about undetected?"

"I'd stay on the move," Dean answered instantly.

"So, you're saying, maybe this isn't Rebecca, but the werewolf that bit her." Sam finished. John nodded.

"It makes sense," Dean added. 'If it's working a wide arc, no one's going to investigate the odd disappearance from the woods."

"And all the while Rebecca's being responsible and locking her and her children up. Not harming anyone." John finished.

"Have you ever heard of a good werewolf, dad?" Sam asked.

"Exactly," Steve said behind them.

"No," he admitted. "But why would I? Why would any of us? It takes death and destruction to red flag something. There's no reason we would ever become aware of someone like Rebecca."

"Well you boys better hope you're right," Steve said, and something in his voice made them all turn. "Because we're out of time."

The moon had risen early, and in the WInchesters' concentration none of them had noticed that the light coming through the open door was no longer golden, but silver.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean backed away from the basement door as he heard the all too familiar sounds coming through the thin wood.

"Get to the car! Quick!" John ordered.

Steve was the first through the door and out into the moonlight. Suddenly he screamed and fell back into the cabin, blood showed black on his dirty white sweatshirt. He lay on the floor staring beyond the doorway. The scanty moonlight switched off, as if by a switch, and the Winchesters stared at the bulk of the monster in their way.

Clutching at his shredded stomach, Steve pushed himself away, passed the men who now had their guns trained on the male werewolf that was bent down in order to fit through the door.

"Tell me you're armed with silver bullets," John said under his breath.

"You have to ask?" Dean replied.

"Um, I don't actually have a gun," Sam admitted.

"_What_?"

"I just got back from Brighton," he reminded them. "I didn't need one."

The bag was in one corner, passed where Dean was standing. Dean stepped forward.

"Go behind me, Sam."

"Do I need to grab ammo at the same time?" He asked quietly.

"Is everyone forgetting I know what I'm doing? He demanded.

"Sorry."

Sam suddenly nipped behind his brother for the weapons bag. he moved fast, but the werewolf was faster. Dean and John fired simultaneously, but the werewolf had turned its heart away from them. It roared with pain. Sam decided that maybe he didn't need a gun that badly and retreated as the werewolf turned its attention onto Dean.

Again they fired, hitting it again, but still not finding its heart.

Sam flung his brother and himself away from the creature, landing at their father's feet. Dean picked himself up quickly and stood by John's side.

The werewolf snuffled. His attention left them, looking instead to the bloody Steve cowering in the kitchen. the ex-marine whimpered as it took two steps towards him. Then it spun around just as the basement door splintered inwards.

"No!" Dean pushed John's arm up and the silver bullet lodged in the beam above them.

Rebecca, or what was Rebecca most of the time stood among the shattered remains of the door. She gave the men barely a glance, then stared at the male werewolf standing over her husband.

The male raised its muzzle and howled. She leaped for his exposed throat. Steve had almost pushed himself backwards into the oven as the smaller, younger female took full advantage of the male's sex drive and ripped its throat out. She savaged the creature that had brought this torment on her. Though she screamed, almost human screams, in agony as the male tried too late to defend himself, his huge claws ripping death defying gashes along her abdomen, she didn't stop until his head was almost severed.

Only then did she pull away. Amazingly, the werewolf still lived. In the bright moonlight they could see its wicked head blink away tears. The female now looked, panting, at Dean.

Dean nodded. He approached, still mindful of what he was coming near, and put one bullet in the male's heart. Then one in his head for good measure.

Nothing moved.

Suddenly a shot rang out. The men jumped and looked around. Faced with the prospect of becoming like his wife and children, Steve had chosen to put a bullet in his brain.

Rebecca lifted her face up in the moonlight and howled. Her lament was picked up by two smaller voices as the children now appeared at the top of the stairs. They saw the men and growled, but Rebecca growled back at them. With a final look at her husband's body, she led her pups away from the shattered cabin and into the trees.

oooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooo

They hadn't stayed. Once they were sure that Rebecca and her brood were gone they lit a fire and left the cabin blazing.

Sam rode in the back, his long legs cramping before they reached the blacktop.

"Which way?" Dean asked his father as he looked left and right.

"Right," John answered. "My car's parked about half a mile away."

He swung the Impala around.

"Have you lost time now?" Sam asked. "After stopping to hunt with Steve? Do you need help?"

John sighed.

"I shouldn't even be in this car with you," he answered. "I should have walked."

"Yeah, like we'd have let you do _that_," Dean answered.

"I wasn't particularly comfortable with the idea of a moonlight walk," he admitted with a smile.

"Yeah, the mum seemed in control, but those kids need a bit more training," Dean said, with an answering grin.

"Dad, you have to let me help," Sam urged, in no mood for jokes.

John swivelled around in his seat.

"Sam, I understand what you're going through. You know I do. But this demon that killed your mother..."

"It didn't just kill mum, dad. It killed Jessica!" His raised and stressed voice cut through the car like acid. 'It killed the woman _I_ love too. I have to help kill it."

John reached out and put a hand on his son's shoulder. Silver glistened about Sam's eyes, his face reduced to black and white by the moonlight.

"I promise you, Sam. you will help kill it. You both will. In fact I won't be able to do it with out you. But right now I need you to be patient. And to stay away from me." Dean pulled the car over behind John's. Their father took a moment to register where he was, then opened the door. With one foot out on the road, he turned back to both of them. Car light bathed his face in warm light as he looked at his two boys, his own eyes a little brighter than usual. "I meant what I said earlier, I'm proud of you, both of you."

With a little thump of Dean's shoulder, John grabbed his bag and left them. He shut the door, and the light went off. The brothers watched as their father climbed into his own car and drove off.

"I don't believe it," Sam muttered. "He talked me into letting him go _again_."


End file.
